


The Grounder Games

by Lowiiie



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, The 100 (TV)
Genre: 74th Hunger Games, 75th Hunger Games, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Arena, Brollarke - Freeform, Death, F/F, Fluff, Hunger Games, Hunger Games Tributes, Injury, Minor Character Death, Minor Character(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reaping, Romance, Stress, Suspense, Tributes, Violence, eventual smutt, fight
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-21 02:55:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4812302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lowiiie/pseuds/Lowiiie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When two dystopian/post apocalyptic universes meet, it gives you the Grounder Games. A mash-up at the crossroad between the two fandoms.</p><p>OR</p><p>Clarke and Lexa fight for their survival under the tyrannic rule of President Dante Snow!</p><p>(Basically, it's the Hunger Games with the 100 characters but with a twist!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The District

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An introduction to District 12 and a certain Reaping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the kind of story that wasn't planned at all. I was lazily trying to enjoy a Hunger Games marathon when 10 minutes in the first movie, I just couldn't follow anymore.  
> I’ve never been so prolific in one day though I should really tie up chapter 4 of my other story but that idea just wouldn’t leave me alone. If you’re a fan of both fandoms, I hope I’ve made them both justice.

* * *

 

**CHAPTER 1**

**The District**

 

 

 

Panem. Panem was the name of the nation that stood on the ruins of what was previously known as North America.

200 years ago, the world disappeared with a global thermo-nuclear war and was plunged into chaos. The few survivors rose from the ashes of the Old World and built a better nation divided in 13 districts. Each district had a precise role in the right functioning of the nation ruled by Polis, the Capitol. The Capitol was the political center and the legislative heart of the nation. It has been erected symbolically where Washington DC once was – a place of power. Polis was the home of the Mountain Men, as they were nicknamed throughout all the districts. The Mountain Men were the descendants of the high ranked chosen ones who had been hidden away in the fortress under Mount Weather during the Global War. When they finally went above ground, they seized the surrounding lands and reclaimed their power.

 

97 years ago, the Coalition of the 13 districts collapsed with the growing riots of its inhabitants, angered by poverty and injustice. The districts, not equally supplied in basic resources nor all favored by the Capitol, turned against one another, crumbled and, in a desperate last effort, tried to overrule Polis. The war lasted years, with the military help of District 13, before they saw the end of it. The result was the defeat of the districts and the total annihilation of District 13 – so effectively destructed that it became a myth. It took even longer to rebuild what had been lost and formed a new coalition.

 

74 years ago, the newly elected President, Dante Snow First of his name, imagined, created and implemented The Grounder Games – a brutal televised entertainment set every year in the fall where children from age 12 to 18 were drawn to fight to the death as retaliation against their ancestors’ uprising. Two children, boy or girl, in each district were chosen to become tribute and only one out of the 24 would survive and become victor. It was a tradition that came from a painful past of their history. It was the price they had to pay.

 

Clarke was 17 and in a few hours, she would be participating in her sixth Reaping.

 

Clarke Griffin was born and raised in District 12, the district further west from the Capitol, and the poorest. Clarke was the daughter of Abby Griffin, an apothecary and healer, and Jake Griffin, a miner in charge of the tunnels’ safety. Abigail Griffin was born Evergreen, as in the former Mayor Evergreen. Clarke’s privileged upbringing sort of made her royalty among the poor district people but, though Clarke loved her grandfather, she never abused of her status and she never considered nor acted as an entitled one. After all, Abby had gone against her parents’ wishes when she decided to marry a miner. As a result, they had cut all ties with their daughter, only keeping contact with their granddaughters.

Clarke never resented the choice her grandparents made, in fact, she considered herself pretty lucky; she had amazing parents and a loving little sister. Clarke was 5 when Beatrice – Tris for short – was born. And the four of them, despite the struggles that came and went, managed to live a descent life by Trigeda standards.

Trigeda was the name the locals called the slum in their district, as a sign of their pride. Trigeda was a word from the dialect they developed from a strip-down English; it meant forest and it was a private joke among the inhabitants. The district might have been the one providing coal to the nation but they were living in the mountains, surrounded by woods and found escape in them more often than not – a section of the fence surrounding their district was never electrified.

Clarke knew all about that fence. She was known as a ‘Stelthona’, a stealth hunter. It was absolutely prohibited and punished from public lashing to death to leave the district, let alone go out for food. But the district was poor and food was scarce. A few courageous had taken upon themselves to defy the rules of the Capitol and sneak out of the fence to hunt animals and pick nuts, berries and fruits. The guards were not particularly over-zealous and tended to look the other way, as they appreciated the taste of fresh meat in their plates as any other given citizen.

Jake Griffin was one of the hunters, always has been, ever since he was a boy. When Clarke was 8, she followed him into the woods. She would have remained unseen if she hadn’t been caught in one of his rabbit’s trap. From that day on, Jake would teach her daughter everything he knew about the woods – the names of plants and trees, the distinction between edible and not, stealth, bow hunting, knife throwing, meat preparation…Clarke cherished those father-daughter moments. Her sister was too young to join them and her mother insisted on passing onto Clarke her knowledge of potions and medicine, which Clarke hated; the mere sight of blood turned her stomach upside down.

So Clarke became one with her surroundings, giving her game and gatherings to her dad to exchange for everyday necessities – clothes, shoes, non-perishable goods…It was a well-rehearsed routine; Clarke would go to school by day, prepare new arrows and draw colorful pictures on her sister’s bedroom walls in the evenings. On Sundays, the only off day of the week at the mine, Clarke and her father would spend the day out hunting. It was a well-rehearsed routine that stopped the day her father died in the mines.

At age 11, Clarke’s world became dark and harder that it already was. She was at school when she heard the high-pitched siren of the mine. The siren usually blew twice a day – in the morning to call the miners to work, and in the evening to signal the end of the day. When the siren blew in early afternoon that day, Clarke knew right away that something terrible had happened. Classes were dismissed and Clarke sprinted to the mine.

Her father had found weeks prior to the catastrophe that some of the tunnels had grown unstable. He had reported to the authority but they hadn’t paid attention to his warnings. Her father died in a mine explosion along 18 other miners.

After his death, her mother went into a deep depression. She forgot the world around her and basically left her daughters to care for themselves, constantly keeping to her quarters or her rocking chair in her apathetic state.

 

Clarke had to fend by herself to support her family and it was in those circumstances she met two of the most important people in her life.

A few months after her father’s death, Clarke was on the brink of starvation. As a last resort, Clarke wandered to the Ark – the black market trading place of her district – to sell some of her father’s belongings to buy enough food until she worked up her nerves to go hunting on her own. She ended up at Marge’s station where she saw for the first time two radiant green orbs looking at her with intensity.

 

“You’re the Griffin girl. I’m Margaret but everyone calls me Marge, and this is Lexa, my apprentice. Let me see what you got there.”

 

And that was the beginning of a friendship that would grow over the years and turned into a romantic relationship.

 

Lexa was Marge’s protégé. She had been for years; ever since she became an orphan. Irony had it that Lexa’s father died alongside Clarke’s in the mine accident. And her mother died in childbirth. Lexa became officially an orphan at age 12 but the truth was she has been on her own most of her life.

She had loved her father but he had been hardly ever there for her, working long hours down the mine. Lexa had learned from a tender age the tricks and trades of her district.

She had been taken under Marge’s wings before the old woman, who happened to be one of the most respected Elders and creators of the Ark, adopted her. If it weren’t for Marge, Lexa would probably be dead from malnutrition or death penalty.

Marge had her ways in the community and was the go-to person for goods transactions. She introduced Lexa to her world, fed her, clothed her and made a priority for Lexa to go to school. When Lexa started living with Marge, the old woman insisted that Lexa earn her keep – more as a life’s lesson than out of necessity really – for Marge was old and would not always be around for Lexa to turn to. Lexa was too young to set up a shop of her own and spent too little time helping Marge at her station; the old woman didn’t want the kid around the Ark for more than a few hours a week at her young age. So Marge introduced Lexa to the Whitehall’s, the bakers of the wealthiest part of the district. Marge had been dealing with the Whitehall’s for a long time and asked them to hire Lexa to help around the bakery after school.

This was where Lexa met her best friend Costia.

 

Costia was a well-behaved sweet girl, with polite manners and soft features. She was the exact opposite of Lexa and maybe that was why their friendship worked. Or maybe it was that Costia had been secretly eyeing Lexa in class but hadn’t worked up the nerves to introduce herself before.

Costia was more than happy to spend her after school time with the girl and Lexa had the benefit to take home the burnt breads for free. Lexa thought she couldn’t ask more from life until she met Clarke up close.

 

Clarke was a year younger thus in a different class, but Lexa had noticed the girl, catching glimpses of golden hair during recess. She had been intrigued from the start, but having Clarke standing in front of her that day was like an evidence to her that they were meant to meet. Lexa had always wanted to know her and now that she had, she knew she wouldn’t be able to let her go; the attraction was instantaneous. The romance would wait a few more years before coming into play but, even as friends, they were two peas in a pod, much to Costia’s dismay.

 

Lexa would often see Clarke at the Ark or at school after that fateful day. Clarke would come trade the result of her hunts at Marge’s station or with the Peacekeepers in post there. Clarke wouldn’t go to the nice part of town; not since her mother fell into depression and her grandparents refused to help. So Clarke would bring Lexa nuts and berries – that she liked very much – and Lexa would trade a share of it to Costia for bread that she would give to Clarke.

Costia and Clarke didn’t have lots of interactions, only when Lexa was present. Costia hardly ever came to the Ark and her secret jealousy towards Clarke didn’t help further some semblance of friendship.

 

Lexa grew up and set the finest repair shop there was at the Ark. But it was a front. She was good at serving her people and finding what they needed; most of it, illegally. One of those things was street fighting. It seemed a harsh way to go to forget about your cruel existence after having worked from dawn to dusk but people needed to release some steam in the face of the unfairness and hardships of their lives. They couldn’t go around punching the sell-outs or the Peacekeepers so she created a ring in the back room, adjacent to her station, hidden behind a removable section of the wall covered in knick-knacks. People would meet there on weekend’s nights to fight and bet.

 

Bellamy was the oldest child of the Blake family and was 8 years old when he became the man of his house, single-handedly taking care of his mother and younger siblings. During a particularly hot summer, the District saw one of the worst fires they ever had. Fires were a constant risk when your main activity was coal and the citizens of District 12 knew the instructions to prevent a fire and to contain it. But the wind had blown fiercely that day and the fire had been expanding too quickly. A lot of houses had burned down in a ring of fire. Bellamy’s father died saving a little girl who got caught in one of the burning houses and was stuck under the floorboard where she had taken refuge. Bellamy hardened after that day and never shed a tear again; too many people were counting on him.

 

He was 13 when he met Clarke for the first time. They crossed each other’s paths while they were on the trail of the same prey. Clarke was not yet as experienced as she would grow to be, despite her father's teachings, and had made a lot of noise that had all the animals fled the vicinity, including the one they both coveted. Least to say, they didn’t really get off to a right start and Bellamy had of lot of misgivings during their first encounters. But Clarke was tenacious and Bellamy found that it was easier to just roll with it than resist the girl.

 

During their first collaborative hunt, Bellamy found that Clarke was approaching the kills with too much ceremony. She had skills but she clearly lacked confidence once they had to gather the dead animals. He attributed her the nickname ‘Princess’ as her reference to her mannerism. It stuck even after Clarke got better at it.

 

The more he spent time with her, the more he grew fonder of the resilient blonde. Warming up to her had been a slow process but after months of bickering, they had become best friends.

Bellamy had always been taller and broader than his age, angrier than a teenager should be but life had been tough on him as well and, like Clarke, he had found comfort in the safe haven of the forest. And though he would never admit it, he found comfort in Clarke as well, someone he could share moments of carefreeness, someone he would love to share more than friendship with.

Over the years, Bellamy grew envious of the bond Clarke seemed to have developed with Lexa.

When Bellamy found out about Lexa’s other activities, he was none too happy about the concept. He thought that they were taking enough punches from life already; they needed not the physical bruises to match them. But most of all, he didn’t like Clarke spending so much time with the girl, partaking in this illegal and brutal ‘hobby’, though Clarke never fought nor bet. Bellamy was jealous of Lexa, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He would never let his personal feelings dictate his actions but deeply wished that the blonde would only have eyes for him. He had often wondered if things would have been different if he had met Clarke before Lexa, if he would have been the one to hold her in his arms instead of the brunette. But he would rather have Clarke as a friend than not at all. He cherished the fact that, at least, hunting was their thing and their thing alone. Until his last Reaping, when everything would change no matter the outcome. He would either fight for his life in the arena or survive in the mines. All men of age who were born in Trigeda ended working in the depth of the earth, extracting coal until they were too old or died in a mining accident. Either way, he would lose the forest and a part of Clarke.

 

 On the morning of the Reaping, everything was quiet in Trigeda. Today was a special day – a cursed day Clarke always said – throughout Panem, so everyone was exempted from school and work. Some enjoyed the luxury of being able to stay longer in bed, some took the time to have a ceremonial meal, others were already up and about, prepared for the Reaping and dressed in their best clothes, waiting nervously to be called and gathered at the Square – the Town Hall place.

Clarke woke up at dawn, like she usually did on hunting days. But unlike any other day, she was jolted from her routine of dressing up by the plaintive moans of her little sister. Clarke rushed to Tris’ side of the bedroom they shared and shook her sister awake.

 

“It’s okay. You’re okay. You were just dreaming. It was just a dream.” Clarke said as an attempt to reassure her sister while catching her in a bear hug.

 

“It was me. It was my name.” Tris explained between sobs.

 

“I know. But it’s your first year Tris. They’re not gonna pick you.” Clarke cradled her before adding. “Shh, everything’s okay. Try to go back to sleep.”

 

“I can’t.” Tris cried.

 

“Just try.” Clarke insisted tenderly.

 

Clarke gently pushed her sister to lie back on the bed and covered her with the blanket. When Clarke went to place a kiss on her forehead, Tris leaned into Clarke’s ear and asked in a whisper if she could sing her to sleep. Clarke indulged her.

 

“Deep in the meadow, under the willow…” Tris joined in. “A bed of grass, a soft green pillow…” Clarke trailed off.

 

“Now sleep. I’ve gotta go.”

 

“Where?”

 

“I’ve just gotta go. But I’ll be back. I love you.”

 

Tris smiled and closed her eyes. Clarke kissed her sister’s forehead one last time, then closed the door of the bedroom. She took her boots that were left by the fireplace and her father’s jacket from the hook by the door. She exited the house without a sound, letting in the miserable stray cat Tris brought back home, much to her disgust; she hated the cat and the cat reciprocated the feeling. The cat hissed when it passed her.

 

“I swear I’ll cook you Gustus!” Clarke groaned.

 

She sat on the stairs of her porch and put on the boots and jacket before disappearing among the still asleep houses of the Trigeda.

 

Between the town and the fence resided a clearing. Clarke stopped and looked around before venturing, exposed, towards the fence and going underneath. Once on the other side, she darted to the trees and released the breath she was always holding at that part of her illegal adventures. She had never been caught but one was never too careful.

She retrieved her bow – the one that previously belonged to her dad – and arrows in the trunk of a fallen log. Hunting felt very much like walking after all these years; it was natural to her.

Clarke walked determinedly around a waterfall, bow at the ready. She took position on a broken tree, hiding behind the trunk of another, the leather of her jacket blending in perfectly with the bark. She spotted a deer not too far away, eating, oblivious to her presence. She aimed her bow and was ready to release her arrow when the wind turned. The deer took a whiff of her scent and walked away. Clarke applied one of her dad’s tricks; she gathered dead leaves in one hand and crumbled them to the wind to cover her scent. The bait didn’t take and Clarke had to stealthily follow the deer, keeping the wind full-face. She caught glimpse of the deer hiding behind a boulder so she threw a rock on it to make the deer react to the noise.

Just as she was about to take her shot, Bellamy surprised her.

 

“Hey Princess! Man, that’s a catch!” Bellamy joked. Clarke was momentarily distracted, looking towards her friend’s voice when the deer ran. Clarke took her shot anyway and missed.

 

“Damn you Bell!” Clarke scolded a laughing Bellamy.

 

“How did you plan on carrying a 100-pound deer by yourself when the district is crawling with Peacekeepers?”

 

“I was gonna sell half of it to some Peacekeepers.”

 

“Of course you were.”

 

“C’mon, like you don’t.”

 

“No, not today!”

 

“It was the first deer I’ve seen in months. Now I have nothing to bring back to Lexa. Happy?”

 

“She’ll get over it.” Bellamy said and got a pointed look from Clarke. “Okay…”

 

Bellamy picked up a rock and threw it in a nearby bush. A flock of birds flew away and Clarke skillfully turned away from Bellamy and shot the biggest bird in one swift motion. They both laughed at their teamwork but were quickly interrupted by a hovercraft flying low above them, cutting short Clarke’s hunting trip.

 

They had reached a hill hidden away from the district and were again arguing about the morality of the games and how all could be stopped if everyone were to rally behind that same idea.

 

“…what if they did? What if everyone stopped watching? The Capitol would stop to do whatever the hell they want with us.”

 

“They won’t Bell.”

 

“But what if they did? They are sending us to the Arena to die. Hundreds of kids have died.”

 

“I know but it won’t happen.”

 

“Taking sides, rooting for a district and then cry over the dead. Jus drein jus daun…that’s just sick. We shouldn’t pay with our lives, let them put their kids in there.”

 

“Bell!”

 

“Don’t Bell me! You were the first one to be vocal about it!”

 

“In private. You know how dangerous it is to go against Polis.”

 

“If there’s no one to watch then there’s no game. It’s as simple as that.” Bellamy said, resuming his previous train of thoughts. Clarke smiled at him. “What?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Fine. Laugh at me. You know I’m right.”

 

“I’m not laughing at you.” Clarke grinned.

 

“What does Lexa say?”

 

“You know pretty well she thinks like you. You have at least one thing you can agree on.”

 

“Two…” Bellamy murmured.

 

“What was that?”

 

“Hmm. Nothing.” A pause. “We could do it you know. Take off, live in the woods. It’s what we already do anyway.”

 

“They’d catch us.”

 

“Maybe not.”

 

“They’d turned us into Reapers or worse.” Clarke shivered at the thought of Reapers. If she had a choice, she’d choose death over being turned into a monster. Reapers were beings of nightmares, myths whispered to scare the population. Genetically modified beasts with a particular lust for blood. “We wouldn’t make it five miles.” She added as an afterthought.

 

“Oh, I’d get five miles. I’d go west, straight line to the wasteland.”

 

“There’s Tris, Lexa, our moms and your brothers.”

 

“They can come too.”

 

“As if we’d go without them. But Tris in the woods?” Clarke chuckled and Bellamy laughed at that.

 

“Yeah, you’re right.” He sighed. “Oh, I forgot. Here.” He handed Clarke a tiny loaf of freshly baked white bread.

 

“Oh my god. How did you get it? I thought the bakery was closed today.”

 

“It was closing when I left. Cost me one squirrel. Costia is a tough girl to bargain with.”

 

“She’s still not over the cake incident.”

 

“It was an accident and we still ended up eating it.”

 

“You should have asked Lexa, she’d have gotten you a better deal.”

 

“She wasn’t at the counter today.”

 

Clarke took a deep breath of the inside of the bread as she cut it in two, and gave the other half to Bellamy.

 

“Happy Grounder Games…”

 

“…And may the odds meet ever in your favor.” Clarke finished the sentence, imitating the voice of the head of the Capitol delegation to District 12 – Indra Trinket.

 

“How many times is your name in today?” Clarke was serious again.

 

“47. The odds aren’t exactly in my favor.”

 

Clarke looked at her friend with concern. Bellamy noticed and patted her shoulder.

 

“You should go if you want to go by the Ark before the ceremony.”

 

 

Clarke entered the Ark and made quick to trade her bird with Marge. She traded it for threads and buttons for her mother to finish sewing Tris’ new dress. Then, Clarke made her way towards the back of the Ark where Lexa had set up her own station. Clarke approached and Lexa looked up, smiling wildly, and Clarke’s heart raced in her chest.

 

“And what brings you over to my sweet humble hell ai prisa?” Clarke chuckled at the term of endearment Lexa had made up for her.

 

“Don’t be an ass!”

 

“I’m glad you came.”

 

“I said I would.”

 

“Meet me in the back, I’ve gotta close shop.”

 

“Sure”

 

A few minutes later, Lexa walked inside the room and wrapped her arms around Clarke’s middle.

 

“Hey!” Lexa said, locking eyes with Clarke.

 

“Hey.” Clarke replied, hugging back, snacking her arms around Lexa’s shoulders.

 

“I can’t wait for this day to be over.” Clarke sighed in the crook of Lexa’s neck.

 

“I second that.” Lexa said as she rested her cheek on the blonde head.

 

“I’m just so tired of barely surviving. I want…more. Don’t we deserve better?”

 

“Maybe we do.”

 

Lexa lifted Clarke’s chin and leant forward to capture Clarke’s lips with her own. The kiss was full of want and promises. Clarke leant further into Lexa, deepening the kiss, before breaking it off and punching Lexa on the shoulder.

 

“Lexa! Don’t do that! I thought we agreed.”

 

“I know, but today is my last Reaping and I wanted to have a reminder of what it would be like once you’re also done with this madness.”

 

“I get it, trust me I want to, but I stand by what I said…”

 

“Yeah yeah, not yet. Not until the threat of the Games is lifted off both our shoulders.” Lexa paraphrased Clarke with a smug, cutting her off.

 

“Only one more year!”

 

“One too many!”

 

“We’ve done half of it. And you always have cuddling.” Clarke teased.

 

“Not if my name is drawn. In that case, I’ll need a goodbye kiss.” Lexa winked, grabbing Clarke around the waist. They had slipped many times despite Clarke’s rule and Lexa was willing to push to see if today was a day Clarke would overlook that rule again.

 

“Stop that. That’s not funny!” Clarke snorted.

 

“I got you this.” Lexa reached for a back pocket and placed a golden piece of jewelry in her hands.

 

“What is it?” Clarke asked, turning the trinket in her fingers.

 

“It’s a mockingjay pin. Marge says that’s a mutated bird that should be extinct, but it’s too damn stubborn to die.”

 

“Should I be flattered?”

 

“Definitely.”

 

“You shouldn’t have bought it. You need the money.”

 

“I didn’t. Marge gave it to me. And now I’m giving it to you.”

 

“Lexa…I can’t accept…”

 

“Sure you can. It’s yours.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“How’s Tris?” Lexa asked with genuine concern.

 

“Like it’s her first Reaping and she has 6 more years to endure.” Clarke replied, nuzzling back in the crook of Lexa’s neck.

 

“She’ll be fine. You refused she take extra food from the government so her name is only on one paper.”

 

“I know.”

 

“We made it through. She’s a Griffin, I’m not worried.”

 

“You’re being cute!”

 

“Am I making you re-think your whole ‘wait’ idea?”

 

“Damn you Lex!” Clarke exclaimed as she detached herself from the one she didn’t want to jinx by calling her her girlfriend, walking away backwards to go home.

 

“Love you too!” Lexa yelled as Clarke reached the door. Clarke smirked and left.

 

 

Clarke arrived home an hour before noon, the time that was set for the ceremony. She entered the kitchen to find her sister already pampered and dressed, hair done in two braids starting at the middle top of her head and going down each side behind her ears.

 

“Aww you look beautiful.”

 

Clarke knelt down in front of Tris. She reached around her sister’s waist to adjust the blouse.

 

“But you better tuck in that tail little duck!” She added as she tucked the blouse into the skirt. She caressed her sister’s cheek.

 

“I laid something out for you too.” Abby addressed her eldest daughter.

 

“Okay.” Clarke simply answered, not turning around to look at her mother. She stood up and kissed Tris at the crown of her hair.

 

 

Trigeda didn’t have running water. You had to gather the amount you needed from one of the wells and carry the heavy load in buckets back to your quarters. Surprisingly, Clarke found the large basin they used to bathe already filled with hot water. She proceeded to scrap clean every inch of her body, getting rid of the sweat, dirt and sticking coal dust. When she stepped in her room, she saw what her mother had been talking about; it was the dress she wore the last Sunday they had been happy as a family, the Sunday before her father’s death. It was a simple pale blue dress with an embroidered belt.

It was quite unnerving for Clarke to realize that the dress fitted her perfectly, that she had more in common with her mother than the physical characteristics of those that lived in the privileged parts of town. The inhabitants of Trigeda usually had dark hair, grey to green eyes and olive skin. Clarke had taken from her mother’s side of the gene pool; she was blonde, fair skin with blue eyes, unlike her father and sister. Needless to say she stood out inside the slum. Despite her upper class features, Clarke had never been pointed out and was well respected among her community. Even more when Clarke’s hardships made her a survivor, like the rest of them, who had to provide for a family when she was still a child. She had to grow up fast, faster than your average child but she became strong, fierce and independent because of it. She would protect those she loved, no matter the cost to herself, as her father did. Today would be no different.

 

Getting back in the kitchen, Abby went to style Clarke’s hair. She combed them and did them in one single thick sideway braid at the bottom of the back of her head and a thin French braid that wrapped around her left ear and joined the other braid.  Then she rolled it up like she would a bun, attaching it with a few hairpins.

 

“Now you look beautiful too.” Abby offered.

 

“I wish I looked like you.” Tris pouted.

 

“I wish _I_ look like _you_ little duck!” Clarke said as she escaped her mother’s grip to seat next to her sister.

 

It was then that the signal rang out and the three faces fell with dread.

 

“Hey. Look what I got. It’s a mockingjay pin. To protect you. As long as you have it, nothing bad will happen to you. I promise.” Clarke pressed the pin in her sister’s palm and closed her hand, resting hers on top of it.

 

The signal rang out again. They needed to get to the Square, the place in front of the Town Hall.

 

When they arrived, almost all the district was already there. Kids lined up in front of tables heavily guarded by extra manpower brought for the occasion. Everyone was on their best behavior, the air so thick with palpable tension; nobody dared start a conversation. The truth was, the occasion for such pompous ceremony was too grim for small talks.

Clarke walked hand in hand with her sister, looking around to catch a glimpse of Lexa and Bellamy. She envied the both of them; after this day, they would be free of the Reaping.

Tris saw the tables with the Capitol envoys, stopped in her tracks and gasped in fear. Clarke took her sister by the arm, directed away from the walking crowd and bent down to her eye level.

 

“Shh Tris, it’s okay. It’s time to sign in now. They’re gonna prick your finger just to take a little blood and…”

 

“You didn’t say…” Tris cut her off.

 

“I know. It’s doesn’t hurt, much. Like when mom gives you vitamin shots. Okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Now go get down there with the little kids. I’ve gotta go join those my age. I’ll find you after. Okay?” Clarke asked as she clutched her sister’s face.

 

“Okay.” Tris breathed out and went to the registration tables.

 

Clarke watched her sister courageously go through identification and join the ranks of the 12 year olds. Clarke was identified a few minutes after, never leaving sight of Tris. She rushed to the gathering crowd, growing anxious to have not found Lexa nor Bellamy yet.

As she took her place among the 17 year olds, she felt a hand brush against the back of her arm and grab her hand. She looked over her shoulder to lock gaze with green eyes trying to mask the worry they felt.

 

“Nice pin Tris got there.” Lexa whispered with a smile.

 

“Mockery isn’t the product of a strong mind.” Clarke smirked.

 

“That’s my line!” Lexa retorted in mock offense.

 

“She needed it more than me today.” Clarke squeezed Lexa’s hand and Lexa tightened her grip back.

 

Clarke turned her head over where a group of boys were failing at covering their sniggers and spotted Bellamy among them. Costia was in the same row. Costia. Clarke thought that, at least, Lexa wouldn’t be alone if her name were to be drawn. Not like she hated the idea of it; she had nothing against the girl except for her persistent crush on Lexa. They might be reining in their feelings and cravings towards one another but Clarke and Lexa still promised their love to each other. Clarke hated this nonsensical jealousy, now was definitely not the moment to be irrational.

 

The Mayor walked out of the Town Hall with his wife and they both sat on one side of the stage. They were quickly followed by Indra Trinket. Clarke looked once again towards Bellamy and she saw he found her too. ‘Are you okay?’, he mouthed. Clarke shrugged.

Indra walked to the front of the stage and spoke to an ostentatious microphone to address the people of District 12. Indra was an elegant dark skinned woman who adorned a pale pink wig to match a vibrant dark pink dress, eyelashes, lipstick and shoes, and some kind of tattoo on her face. She looked like she just walked out of a candy factory – the typical extravagant attire for someone from Polis. If the day weren’t critical, she would be laughing how it contrasted with her uptight personality.

 

“Welcome, welcome, welcome. Happy Grounder Games and may the odds meet ever in your favor. Now, before we begin, we have a special film brought to you all the way from the Capitol.”

 

There they were again. It was the same propaganda Clarke had seen at each Reaping – a political film that talked about lies. It narrated the war with the districts, the aftermath, the so-called peace forged in the wake of loss, underlining the lie that the people were now united and working together as one towards a better future, the President posing himself as a hero, that the Games were necessary to keep the people in line, arguing the need to kill innocent children, retracing the history of the creation of the Games. He even dared explain that allowing a victor was a sign of the Capitol’s generosity and forgiveness…

 

“What a load of bullshit.” Lexa stifled under her breath. As an answer, Clarke started moving her thumb in smoothing circles, caressing the back of Lexa’s hand. Lexa squeezed back and thanked her in a whisper.

 

“I just love that.” Indra squealed at the end of the recorded message. Composing herself she continued. “Now time has come for us to select two courageous youngsters for the honor of representing District 12 in the 74th Grounder Games. Let’s begin.”

 

Indra gracefully walked to the glass bowl filled with neatly folded pristine pieces of paper. She dramatically hovered her hand inside the bowl and plunged her hand to grab the closest one. She kept her hand outstretched in front of her, showing off the piece of paper that would seal the fate of the first tribute. As she reached the microphone, she unfolded it and read out loud.

 

“Beatrice Griffin.”

 

And Clarke froze. This couldn’t be happening; Tris only had one paper inside that bowl. The chances for her to be selected were close to non-existent. She felt Lexa tighten the grip on her hand and wrap her waist with the other.

 

“Clarke.”

 

Tears were brimming in Clarke’s eyes, mouth wide open from the shock of registering that her little sister, that wasn’t even out of childhood yet, had been called to her death.

 

“Where are you dear? Come on up!” Indra called.

 

“Clarke.” Lexa tried again. Lexa knew what Clarke would do and she would not oppose it as much as it hurt.

 

Clarke looked as Tris was slowly walking towards the stairs; Tris readjusted her blouse into her skirt and that was it. Clarke snapped out of her shock and let go of Lexa to run after her sister. She spurred into life, throwing herself forward, pushing the bodies of her fellow citizens away to step out of her row and call after her sister.

 

“Tris!”

 

Two Peacekeepers grabbed Tris’ arms.

 

“Tris!”

 

Two other Peacekeepers stepped in front of Clarke, efficiently blocking her way. She struggled and tried to fight them off but they wouldn’t budge. So Clarke did the only thing that she could think of to protect her sister.

 

“I volunteer! I volunteer!” Clarke screamed and Lexa closed her eyes.

 

Clarke pushed forward, freeing herself from the guards’ hold. She planted her feet firmly on the ground and spoke determinedly and clearly at Indra.

 

“I volunteer as tribute.”

 

“Huh?” Indra was lost for words. “I believe we have a volunteer.” She said hesitantly, not knowing the procedure, as it was the first time she was confronted with such occurrence.

 

The Peacekeepers allowed Clarke to hug her sister.

 

“You need to get out of here.” She said as she bent down to her sister’s level.

 

“No.”

 

“Go find mom!”

 

“No!” She cried.

 

“Go find mom right now. I’m so sorry.” Clarke continued, throat tightening to block the tears from falling.

 

“No!”

 

“Tris, leave before…”

 

“No, no. NO!” Tris screamed a heartbreaking cry as Bellamy scooped her up in his arms.

 

Lexa stood still in her row, feeling helpless that her girlfriend was sacrificing herself for her family. Her chest grew heavier with each scream that escaped Tris’ mouth; screams that spoke of love, of loss, of pain, of anger, of grief, of broken hope…It was unbearable. One couldn’t volunteer for someone who had volunteered themselves. Lexa would have made the sacrifice for Clarke in a heartbeat though she knew Clarke wouldn’t have let her.

 

“A dramatic turn of events in District 12.” Indra announced, as Clarke was lead to the stage.

 

Clarke felt numb. She knew what she did was right, to save her sister. But the implications of her action left a void, an endless void that was sucking the life out of her.

 

“Well well, District 12’s very first volunteer. Bring her up!”

 

Clarke grabbed the rail and slowly walked up the stairs, Indra encouraging her with ecstatic movement of her hand to join her.

When Clarke faced the crowd and saw of all of the faces looking at her, guilty relief in their eyes except for a pair of gorgeous watery green ones, Clarke felt it all at once and thought she would collapse under the weight of her thrashing emotions. She averted her eyes; she couldn’t look at the girl she loved, knowing she would certainly not see her again. Indra’s voice brought her back from her thoughts.

 

“What’s your name?”

 

“Clarke Griffin.” She recited in a weak voice.

 

“Well, I bet my hat that was your sister, wasn’t it?”

 

“Yes.” She replied, broken.

 

“Let’s have a big hand for our very first volunteer, Clarke Griffin.”

 

Indra started to clap her hands but quickly stopped when she realized no one was applauding back. Instead, Clarke saw Lexa kiss three of her fingers and brandish her left hand towards to sky. Soon enough, the crowd followed and the entirety of the district was showing their respect through their own acquired salute. Clarke gasped, a tear rolling on her cheek.

Without loosing her cool, Indra went back to the microphone.

 

“And now for the second tribute.”

 

Indra walked to the bowl once more and rummaged longer than necessary the tiny pieces of paper. As she announced the name, Clarke felt herself falter; she was wrong when she briefly thought this couldn’t get any worse, for the name that had been drawn belonged to one of the two other people that she had never wanted to hear from Indra Trinket’s mouth. She looked up once more and sought the pair of green eyes that she loved with all her heart, staring right back at her.

 

“Lexa Woods.”

 

Her girlfriend – there was no fear of bad luck now – had just been called too and only one of them, if extremely lucky, could make it back home.

Lexa came to the stage and stood facing Clarke, both too shocked to give more than a blank expression. They were asked to shake hands, obliging for a second.

 

“Happy Grounder Games and may the odds meet ever in your favor.”

 

Lexa and Clarke walked inside the Town Hall and the doors closed behind them.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have an update plan. I only know that this story will be roughly composed of 18 chapters, but that may change, depending on the length of the chapters! hope you enjoy! don't hesitate to hit the comment section!


	2. The Goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title is self explanatory ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! thank you for the comments, I'm happy for the warm welcome the 1st chapter received!
> 
> So this chapter is shorter than I'm used to write. It's actually a part of a chapter that was to be called "The Capitol", from the goodbyes to Clarke meeting her mentor, at least around that time. But I'm so bad at updating and I had these pages already written lying around. I couldn't not give you something. I've been busy in general, either because I have no time or something else in mind, and though I haven't lost the will and inspiration for both my stories (i literally have several notepads filled with plot points and dialogues!), sometimes I just cannot push the want to write for the sake of writing. I'd rather wait than give something unsatisfactory for both me and you. I won't give up my stories. I want to see them through as much as you do. But it will take time.  
> I might rethink the planned chapter count and make more with less content to update more often. I'll see how it goes but be aware that my updates will remain sporadic!  
> the chapter count changed from 18 to 19 and might change again. It could very well go up to 25!  
> Anyway, enjoy! I hope to see you again in the comment section :)

**CHAPTER 2**

**The Goodbyes**

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke could feel her heartbeat overwhelming the confines of her head, the drums of her blood loudly invading her ears, muting every other sound and making her dizzy. She felt like she was going to throw up any moment. Every year she had been scared that it would be the year her name would be drawn but every time a part of her never really grasped the reality that it would be to have it actually happen. But she had never envisaged the possibility that she would be the one making the choice to go to the arena, going ahead of the simple act of her name being read out loud by a total stranger that would seal her fate irrevocably. She wasn’t crazy. She wasn’t suicidal. She was selfless though. And when it came to her life for her little sister’s, the choice had been made before she even voiced it. And that was what made her decision more bearable – knowing it wasn’t foolish, that her sacrifice wasn’t in vain because Tris was too pure for this life and had much to offer to their world. Clarke would not let the government hurt the people she loved.

That was when that already horrible day turned into an unfathomable dark joke; she had had to face the possibility of her own death in a split second and the next, another loved one’s possible end had been added to the pile. If there were one person that she cherished more than her little sister was the girl she gave her heart to, the girl she had made the promise to be with in this life. Lexa had been called and no one had stepped forward to take her place, not even Costia who would have jumped to the opportunity of being with Lexa if Clarke hadn’t entered the picture. How could Costia harbor deep feelings for Lexa and not consider sparring the girl’s life? The prospect of giving up your life for someone else’s was a great mean to see who people really were. Though it was understandable that a lot would not consider putting their life on the line - it took a lot of courage and despite a roaring uneasiness in the district, most people were cowards - Clarke knew she would have not hesitated to save her girlfriend’s life if she hadn’t had to save someone already. Lexa had been called and there was nothing Clarke could do about it.

In that fateful day, Clarke could see a silver lining, a flimsy sorrowful one, but that was more that she could have hoped for – they would be together. Lexa would not face the Games alone and Clarke would do anything in her power to help her get out of the arena. Clarke was somewhat glad that when she would die, Lexa would be by her side. Lexa would be the last thing Clarke would see before closing her eyes forever. It wasn’t much but the knowledge of not being alone and surrounded by strangers during her final moments made the perspective of her death less painful. Because Clarke wasn’t delusional. She knew she wouldn’t make it out alive, not if she had to save Lexa, but she accepted it.

Clarke’s desperation and determination poured over her entire body. She could feel her muscles tightened, the tension roll in waves at the surface of her skin. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she dug her nails in the wood frame of the windowsill inside one of the waiting rooms on the first floor of the Town Hall. Clarke remembered that room. This was where she had been meeting her grandparents as a kid before they became estranged.

 

The Peacekeepers had let her in without hesitation as soon as both tributes had been chosen. Clarke had been too numb to protest and resist, too preoccupied by the wheels turning in her mind trying to make sense of all that happened moments ago. She had barely lifted her eyes to meet Lexa’s before they were separated when they all crossed the Town Hall’s threshold. She had been too shocked to even try to reach her girlfriend despite Lexa’s unfaltering pleading eyes. Lexa hadn’t muttered a word either since she had let Clarke take Tris’ place and though she had been appalled by the results of the Reaping, she had recovered quickly as soon as they were ushered inside the plain grey building. Lexa had dug her feet on the ground when she realized they would be separated with no explanations. Clarke had heard her from afar, like with a slightly muted background noise in her aghast state, heard her ask what was happening but Lexa had been met with silence until she had been shoved inside her own waiting room.

Clarke hadn’t heard a noise since Lexa’s few unsuccessful and unanswered insistent punches on her room’s door.

 

Clarke was still by the window, nails anchored in the wood, shoulders slumped, eyes glazed, head down and mind faraway trying to foresee any solution to get her girl home, however unrealistic that might be, and imagining what the coming days would be. But Clarke stopped having any idea of what the future might hold the moment she lost what remaining control she had over her own life. She was trying to keep a hold on herself when the door opened behind her.

 

“You have 5 minutes.” She heard a voice behind her back speak.

 

She turned around to find a teary eyed Tris rushing towards her, followed closely by her mother who was showing more emotions in those brief seconds than she had in the several years after her father’s death.

Abby was scared and concerned but Clarke couldn’t deal with her right now. Clarke opened her arms and Tris ran into their familiar safety. Tris encircled her own around Clarke’s body and broke down against her chest. Clarke hugged her as tightly and whispered soothing words in her hair, showing her little sister confidence she didn’t feel. But Clarke needed Tris to believe that she was strong.

 

“Shh. Tris, it’s okay.” Clarke said, pushing Tris from her before kneeling in front of her to wipe the tears from her cheeks. But Tris was inconsolable.

 

“Tris, we don’t have much time. Listen, you’re gonna be okay. Don’t take any extra food from them. It isn’t worth putting your name in more times. Okay?” Clarke insisted, looking at Tris dead in the eye to make sure her sister would do as she said. Tris casted her eyes down, sobbing. Clarke took her chin in her hand and lifted her face to have Tris’ eyes meet hers again.

 

“It’s important Tris. Listen to me. Bell will bring you game. Maggie can help you sell some. Use your goat as well for milk and cheese. Do not venture out in the woods!”

 

“Just try to win. Maybe you can.” Tris said in a broken voice.

 

“Of course, strik sista. Maybe I can. I am smart you know.” Clarke gave her a faint but encouraging smile.

 

“You can hunt.” Tris added with a sob.

 

“Exactly. I’ve learned a lot from dad and Bellamy.” Clarke agreed and gave her a wider smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

 

“And you’ll have Lexa.” Tris calmed and said without returning the smile, knowing well what it implied.

 

At her sister’s words, Clarke felt a pang of pain in her chest. Yes, she would have Lexa. And though she said she would try, how could she contemplate winning knowing what it would cost her? Despite having made up her mind, she didn’t want to die and leave her family alone but what could she do when she also didn’t want to lose Lexa? It had been easy to come up with the decision of saving Lexa when she was on her own but her sister’s pleas made her waver. She couldn’t do both and that terrified her.

Tris must have felt the inner turmoil as she leant forward and rested her forehead to Clarke’s. Tris had always loved Lexa, and even more after she gave her a goat, one from an old man who had passed away too weak to fight the cold, after nursing it back to health. It had been a surprise from both Lexa and Clarke, and Tris’ best birthday present to date. Tris took her sister’s hand and slipped the Mockingjay pin in her palm.

 

“To protect you. Both of you.” She said softly.

 

Clarke regarded the pin Lexa offered her. She chuckled inwardly at the irony, at how it had come full circle and the pin came back to the person it was meant to in the first place. Clarke closed her fist and leant back to look at Tris again.

 

“Thank you.” Clarke said in a whisper before clutching her sister’s head to drop a kiss at the crown of her hair and capturing her in her arms to give her one last hug. Clarke took a moment to inhale her sister’s scent to remember as she rested her head on her sister’s small shoulder.

 

Clarke heard the rustle of fabric and the awkward shift of a foot to another, and remembered they were not alone in the room. As she raised her head, she caught her mother’s eyes on them, looking at her eldest daughter with profound sadness and apprehension.  With deliberate slow movements, Clarke released herself from Tris’ grasp and stoop up. As she walked to her mother, Clarke addressed her with a calm but warning voice.

 

“You can’t tune out again.” Clarke stated.

 

“I won’t…”Abby replied weakly.

 

“No, you can’t. Not like when dad died. I won’t be there anymore. You’re all she has. No matter what you feel, you have to be there for her and take care of her. Do you understand?”

 

Abby didn’t say a word as she tried to hold back her own tears. Fearing her own voice, she simply nodded.

 

“Don’t cry.” Clarke said to her mother. She needed her to be strong for the both of them, for Tris.

 

They stayed a few seconds looking at each other, not knowing how to proceed. Abby looked at her eldest daughter and felt her heart break anew. Clarke looked at her and understood. She let go of her tense exterior and reached for her mother.

 

“Don’t cry. Don’t…Don’t.” She said to Abby as she embraced her, the echo of those words reverberating inside her as if trying to prevent herself from breaking down as well. Abby took a step closer and hugged Clarke like she would never again, like she should have done when Jake died, like she should have done many times over when her daughter took upon herself to bear the weight of her family on her young shoulders.

 

“I’ll try to be good mom.” Clarke shyly said, like she was a little girl again making a promise to behave.

 

“Remember what your father used to say Clarke: They are no good or bad guys kiddo, only people trying to survive.” Abby proudly recited as she reminisced her husband’s wisdom.

 

“I miss him so much. But I’m glad he wasn’t here today to see all of this.”

 

“He wouldn’t have let anything happen to the both of you. He was a good man.”

 

“He was.”

 

“Be careful Clarke.”

 

“I will. Get smak daun gyon op nodotaim right?” Clarke assured her mother and Abby nods before holding her daughter one last time in her warmth and adding,

 

“May we meet again.”

 

The seeming quiet was broken by the entrance of a Peacekeeper who notified it was time to part. Tris hurried, from where she had watched her sister and mother share a moment, to grab at her sister and hold on tight as the Peacekeeper pulled at her to separate them. Tris was once again torn from Clarke yelling.

 

“No!”

 

“It’s okay Tris, it’s okay.” Clarke said, pressing a kiss in her sister’s hair.

 

“No! No! No!” Tris screamed as Clarke felt a déjà vu from mere minutes ago.

 

The Peacekeeper rushed them outside as Clarke held on to her sister’s hand. Another Peacekeeper stopped Clarke from stepping outside the room.

 

“I promise Tris.” Clarke said in a last ditch attempt to give futile hope to keep her sister going when she knew she would break that promise eventually.

 

Clarke lost hold on her sister’s fingers and she stayed facing the door in a daze after it slammed shut in her face. She couldn’t hear a thing behind it. She took a risk and ran a hand over the knob before turning it to open the door. She chanced a glance in the slit of the narrowly opened door but saw nothing. She closed the door as fast as she had opened it and, as she released the knob, it opened abruptly. Clarke thought she had been caught, that she would be reprimanded for her disobedience but to her shock, she realized it was Bellamy who had entered. She stepped back before coming back to her senses and let Bellamy pull her into his arms. He hugged her tight but didn’t say a word.

 

“I’m fine.” Clarke spluttered, facing his silence.

 

“Yeah. I know.” He replied calmly, not moving an inch.

 

“I am.” She said once again, not knowing who she was trying to convince.

 

“Listen to me. You’re stronger than they are. You are. Get to a bow.”

 

“They may not have a…”

 

“They will if you show them how good you are. They just want a good show. That’s all they want. If they don’t have a bow then you make one. Okay. You know how to hunt.”

 

“Animals…”

 

“It’s no different Clarke.”

 

“There’s 24 of us Bell. Only one comes out.”

 

Yeah and it’s gonna be you.”

 

“I can’t…”

 

“Sure you can.”

 

“I can’t have her die.”

 

“This isn’t about Lexa. This is about you.”

 

“You know it’s not true.”

 

“Dammit Clarke. Don’t do this. People count on you. This is your life at stake!”

 

“Yes. And hers. I love her Bell. How can I do this?”

 

Bellamy didn’t have the time to answer, whether to yell at Clarke for being stupid listening to her heart over her head or try to resonate her soundly.

 

“Okay come on.” The same Peacekeeper as before interrupted.

 

“Take care of them Bell. Whatever you do, don’t let them starve.” Clarke panicked all of a sudden, the reality that no one else would come after Bellamy and that he was the only one capable of holding her family together in her absence dawning on her.

 

“Let’s go.” The Peacekeeper insisted.

 

“I’ll see you soon okay?” Bellamy said, hopeful.

 

“May we mee…” Clarke started as once again her goodbyes were cut short by a slamming door.

 

Clarke stood stunned in the middle of the room, clearly more affected than she had led them on now that she was truly left alone. Her mind went blank as the absence of her family and the thought of their loss hit her full force. She gasped, clasped a hand over her heart and felt the pin hit her ribcage. She opened her hand a little, not loosing contact with her chest and looked at the jewel. Lexa. Clarke wondered if Marge had given her advices hard-learned from a seasoned life, if she had let her strict composed façade to show motherly warmth to the girl she considered her flesh and blood, if Costia had poured her breaking heart to admit her love and cried her goodbyes. Clarke wondered if Lexa was thinking about her at this very moment as well.

Clarke was taken from her musings by a chipper Indra.

 

“Come come. The Capitol awaits.”

 

Indra left the room and Clarke followed silently, reluctantly. She turned her head as they stopped by the room next door and Clarke followed Indra with her eyes as she opened the door to reveal Lexa. Their eyes met and they stared at each other for a moment too short before Indra started walking again. They were led towards the back entrance of the building, to the alley where a car was waiting for them.

 

Lexa shook her head at Clarke when she tried to grab her hand. Clarke flinched from the rejection and looked away. Lexa didn’t know where they were going. She hadn’t wanted to hurt Clarke but she felt assaulted, at the mercy of the surrounding people’s eyes, and she didn’t want to share with them what Clarke and she had. So she got close to Clarke, brushed their shoulders together and, when Clarke looked up to her, she indicated the camera crew with a flick of her chin. Clarke understood Lexa’s intentions immediately.

 

Marge had been right. Clarke was the first volunteer of their district ever and she would be the subject of headlines and gossips. All eyes were going to be turned on her now that their lives belonged to the Capitol. Lexa didn’t want to give the Mountain Men more ammunition, not when they must have a better way to use their relation to help Clarke. Lexa might be shell-shocked but she hadn’t lost sight of the fact that Clarke would be in the arena with her. And Lexa would be damned if she didn’t do anything in her power to protect the girl she loved.

 

Both were shoved inside the car and the trip to the train station – Lexa figured out once she caught a glimpse of rails – was a blur. Lexa fought her tears, looking anywhere but across from Indra where Clarke was sat. Clarke listened to Indra blabbed about the wonders, beauties and insignificant things the train to Polis could provide before she tuned her out with utter appalled disgust.

 

“You two are in for a treat. Crystal chandeliers, platinum doorknobs and it flies. We’ll be in the Capitol in less than two days. Now, before you do anything else…”

 

Clarke didn’t hear the rest of the unwanted monologue and kept to staring out the window without really seeing the outside.

 

As they arrived at the train station, Clarke was surprised to see lots of the district’s people gathered by the rails in support. Peacekeepers had to make way for them to the door of the wagon. Clarke turned her head left and right, trying to see the familiar faces of her family and friend, but they were too many people around them as they were pushed forward. Indra stopped by the wagon’s entrance and signaled them to precede her to hop on. Clarke climbed the stairs first and felt Lexa’s body heat behind her. She stepped in front of a door that had no handle. It confused her for a moment before the door slid open on its own with a swoosh sound. Indra invited them to walk further inside the wagon, which was when Lexa reached fir Clarke’s hand. There was no need to keep the craving to touch her at bay any longer, not when they were in the protected intimacy of a steel train with stained glass windows. Lexa felt Clarke tense then interlock their fingers together.

The wagon’s door closed and the train began to depart as the two girls stood close side by side, taking comfort in the other’s presence. They didn’t look outside the window to bid a silent farewell to their district; life as they knew it was forever changed and they left little pieces behind the more the train sprung forward towards a place they’d only heard stories about, a city of eternal light, the capital of their strained nation: Polis.

 

They still hadn’t moved when someone cleared their throat behind them. Lexa didn’t get the chance to turn around and see the intruder of their mournful silence when the new addition to their group walked past them and shoved Lexa aside while doing so. The person, a tall lean woman with dirty blonde hair and bloodshot light brown eyes, plumped herself on one of the luxuriant turquoise padded chair and rested her bare feet on the coffee table in front of her. She finished in a large gulp the rest of her drink that smelled strongly of alcohol before looking up at the two dumbfounded girls.

 

“Name’s Anya Abernathy. Just call me Anya. Welcome to the grinder!”


End file.
